On days like today,
A Tuesday at 7 p.m.,
When the day has been long
and my head has woven a web
within itself,

Your hello,
at the end of the phone,
though one hundred and forty-two miles
away —

would have,
and could have,
erased the aches
of every day.

At 3 a.m., she was awoken

Reminded of the blessing of the day.
He walked past in a breeze—
Like an answered prayer.

Cooling the storm of her mind,
Untangling the strings
Of the world
She had created
In her mind.

Water cooling a fiery flame
She had never known
Could be tamed.

Melting the stubborn
Gates—

Her soul wanted to reach out.


But she had been down this path
Too early before.

Yet—
He stood at the end of the path.

Your presence was like a light,
Illuminating the colours
of the world.
But I stood in that doorway
and looked at you—

Mr.
Soft-eyed,
Soul-loud.
English-born,
African-raised.
Melodic voice,
Religiously sound.

Giving me butterflies
that lower my gaze.
Mr. Music,
Melody of my soul.

I’ve lived today
Somewhere in the past

I lived the future
Worries

The tomorrow of
Yesterday

Has long been lived and
Worried

So the day of
Today
Has passed with no peace

The coincidences of this year
have all gathered up
in my head.
And like a hot air balloon,
they’ve filled it so high
that my thoughts now float—

with ideas like:
you killed that spider for me,
you came to see me that day,
you knew my favorite poet
and my favorite travel destination.

But every hot air balloon
must eventually
return to land,
its passengers
mesmerized
by all the views
of skies.


But I am not ready to
leave these coincidences
to the skies.